


Deep Dark

by prayed



Category: Initial D
Genre: M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Wet Dream
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-02
Updated: 2020-10-02
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:09:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26771950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prayed/pseuds/prayed
Summary: Takumi wishes he could have spent more quality time with Ryousuke in his car, and dreams about it going further than he ever realized he wanted.
Relationships: Fujiwara Takumi/Takahashi Ryousuke
Comments: 2
Kudos: 21





	Deep Dark

**Author's Note:**

> Set immediately after Fourth Stage, episode 6.

Takumi stared up at the ceiling as if his mind, no— his soul itself, had drifted up there like a balloon.

He felt happy enough that it sure felt like it had, after winning against a pro-racer. The odds had been so stacked against him and he still managed to win, proving to everyone just how high the quality of racers was in Gunma, amateur or not.

He remembered how after the race was over, he had stayed by the 86, needing some space to take in what had happened and decompress. Not needing to say a word, Ryousuke came to simply put a hand on his shoulder and smile at him with pride.

That was an achievement too; it was so rare to see Ryousuke smile at all. Takumi wanted to spend more time with him outside of just racing business someday. Sitting in Ryousuke’s FC, listening to him walk through his analysis on the course was special, but too hurried for Takumi to really enjoy. If only it had lasted longer.

He was so tired. As he thought about his performance that day, he drifted into sleep.

Then suddenly, he was the one driving in the 86 and Ryousuke was the one sitting in the passenger seat. Ryousuke wasn’t lecturing though. Why was that?

Takumi glanced sidelong at Ryousuke as he drove at his usual quicksilver pace and he turned to Takumi with a small smile, mischievous. Such a strange expression to see on such a serious man.

“Ryousuke-san?”

Takumi said his name as if asking a question and Ryousuke answered by placing a hand over the crotch of his pants. 

Shock and confusion filled Takumi but even more so, alarm. 

No way. This was dangerous.

“Keep driving,” Ryousuke whispered in his ear, voice like black velvet. “This lesson will further hone your control.”

No matter how intelligent and calculating he was, Takumi found that difficult to believe. How anyone expected him to be able to drive at anywhere near his usual competence with a hand on his dick was beyond him.

Ryousuke’s hand unbuttoned his pants and snaked into his boxers, without pause or hesitation pulling Takumi’s cock out and palming it slowly. Teasing.

A gasp escaped Takumi and he turned stock stiff, slowing down out of fear. If he crashed, he would be responsible for Ryousuke as well, and he wouldn’t be able to handle that.

“Don’t be afraid,” Ryousuke said, not sounding concerned at all. Takumi was determined to keep his eyes on the road but in his peripheral vision, he could see a look of sharp intensity, of hunger. 

“Fear isn’t helpful. It makes your body lock up and your driving worsen,” came Ryousuke’s expected lecturing. “If anyone is capable of doing this correctly, it’s you.”

Takumi wanted to say that he wasn’t anything special in that automatic way he cut off flattery, but he suspected some other sound would escape his mouth, so he said nothing. Ryousuke’s hand was warm— dry too, he had thought earlier— but now slick with Takumi’s own pre-cum and jerking him at a steady rhythm.

He could barely focus on the road, wanted to focus elsewhere, but he was managing it somehow, by the skin of his teeth.

They were arriving at the hairpin section of the road, Takumi barely breathing. He didn’t know how he would make it. He had been so obedient of Ryousuke in every race before, would obey any word he said, and he wanted to here, but how could he?

“Ryousuke-san, we shouldn’t— I, I can’t—“ Takumi stumbled out through harsh breaths. Ryousuke hushed him and paused to give him a squeeze.

“I won’t let you finish until you arrive at the end of the course. Go, Fujiwara.”

Takumi grit his teeth and sped up, turning the steering wheel with herculean effort and tightly controlling his feet on the pedals, as the 86 swerved dangerously at each curve. The backside of the car only narrowly missed the guard rail.

Takumi was as aroused as he was afraid, throbbing with the need to finish, heart pounding through his whole body. The tires squealed in complaint at his speed. He cleared the final curve shakily and practically flew down the last straightaway in a desperate desire to stop.

He had done it.

Ryousuke waited for the 86 to come to a complete halt, before moving his hand again.

“You’re just as skilled as I thought.” He smirked.

Takumi just stared at him, sweating and pale from the nervous energy he had come down from, unable to even speak. If he could, he might have had the urge to yell at Ryousuke that this was weird and unfair and dangerous and irresponsible and Takumi didn’t understand it, didn’t understand him. Except that he had never said a disrespectful thing about Ryousuke and didn’t want to, even then.

“Fujiwara. Here’s your reward,” said Ryousuke, and that was when he leaned over and swallowed Takumi’s cock down, hot and wet.

Takumi fucked his mouth with all of the energy that he had left, the fear and annoyance from earlier having quickly vanished. It felt so good. He had never done this before and Ryousuke was so cool and handsome and his voice was so deep, humming around Takumi’s cock as he sucked. 

Takumi wanted Ryousuke like he wanted little else and it was such an overpowering, heavy feeling that he didn’t know what to do with it. He wanted more of that faith and pride that Ryousuke had in him. He wanted the other man to look at him and to get closer and closer, even when there wasn’t any space between them anymore. He wanted to own the dark of his eyes, the way his lips held a cigarette, the elusiveness of his smile.

Even his name felt so good to say, like it filled Takumi’s throat, and all he could do was say it again and again, softly moaning it, until his voice broke from his stuttering breaths and he came, hot, all over the inside of Ryousuke’s mouth and onto his face.

“Hey. Wake up.”

Takumi scrambled up, fear coursing through him as if he had really been caught in the act, but no— it was just a dream. Of course.

“You told me to wake you up for your deliveries. It’s time.” 

4 AM. Takumi’s father was at the door of his room, looking at him oddly.

It took an extra moment for Takumi to take control of his voice and respond.

“Yeah, I’ll be down in a minute. Just have to use the bathroom first.”

Takumi’s eyes were wide, looking down at the part of the blanket covering his crotch, hoping it didn’t reveal anything, but Bunta just grunted and left back downstairs.

Takumi flipped the covers off and washed his face with a sigh, knowing he wasn’t going to be able to look directly at Ryousuke for days. 

He had much to think about.


End file.
